Live review: T in the Park 2009

FRIDAY

The honour of opening this year's T in the Park falls to SAVING AIMEE. It would be easy to say they've been listening to 80s new wave pop, but more realistically they've been listening to the Last.fm playlists of teenage emo girls such is their wholly unimaginative attempt to latch onto a fad that will pass long before the Hertfordshire band have figured out that synths, angular haircuts and expensive sneakers are no substitute for writing a song that actually has some weight.

JAMES MORRISON at least knows his role in the grand scheme of things, playing inoffensive love songs to the masses at the Main Stage. The highlight of an instantly forgettable set (and no You Make It Real - shame on you Morrison!) was when he attempted a Scottish accent when urging the crowd to "have yerself a bonny day, alright" and ended up sounding like a Rasta.

MAPLE LEAVES are possibly one of the newest bands ever to play T in the Park, this being only their sixth gig, but you could never tell given how nerveless and assured they are performing their simple, feelgood pop songs. Despite their moniker, Maple Leaves are from Scotland but try telling that to the three middle-aged Canadian tourists who rocked up to the T Break tent halfway through the set decked in red and white jester hats and bomber jackets emblazoned with "Toronto Maple Leaves", clearly expecting to find a taste of home.

Whatever happened to IDLEWILD? It wasn't so long ago that the world looked theirs for the taking. Now we find Roddy Woomble singing the once brittily brilliant Roseability as though he's serenading a sheepdog in his favourite Highland retreat. Even Rod Jones' scissor-kicks look like half-hearted attempts to cling on to the memory that Idlewild were once a rock band, and a very good one at that. 100 Broken Windows? Somebody better take a look at that.

T in the Park gives The Pop Cop our first eagerly-awaited opportunity to see CAMERA OBSCURA live but within a few minutes we wonder why we even bothered making the long trek to the Futures tent. The band shuffle on stage with their faces tripping them, singer Tracyanne Campbell whinges "apparently this is the future" and as beautiful as their songs are, they do nothing to deserve the enthusiastic response from their fans. What an ungrateful bunch. Are they always this miserable? Later that night keyboard player Carey Lander tweets "I hate festivals. So there." Happy enough to pick up the cheque, though.

Camera Obscura could certainly take a few lessons in entertainment value from the YEAH YEAH YEAHS. Karen O sprints onto the Radio 1/NME Stage sporting an outlandish winged frock and dares the crowd to match her levels of bonkersness. They bring out the East Kilbride Pipe Band to play bagpipes during the last two minutes of Skeletons, before whipping the crowd into a frenzy for set-closer Date With The Night which is so manic they can (just) be forgiven for playing a stripped-down version of Maps.

KINGS OF LEON are in their rightful place, headlining the Main Stage, which is precisely where you want to see your rock 'n' roll heroes. Sex On Fire and Use Somebody will undoubtedly be two of the songs which will define this decade's music, but it's somehow reassuring that it has taken them four albums to get to these heights. Greatness should be earned. And the fact that Matthew Followill can pull off playing guitar while drinking from a straw proves they're still cool as fuck.

SATURDAY

MUMFORD & SONS are an inspired choice to kick off the second day's proceedings at TITP, being the perfect post-hangover pick-me-up, all lush harmonies and gorgeous melodies. We've said it on these pages before, but their debut album (scheduled for release in October) is shaping up to be an absolute classic with the likely inclusion of majestic songs such as The Cave, Sigh No More, Little Lion Man and Awake My Soul.

PAOLO NUTINI has raised his game immeasurably since we last saw him at the Barrowlands in 2006. This is the guy who used to settle his pre-concert nerves by getting wasted then spend entire gigs singing at his shoes like some rambling drunk. But he has sorted himself out and he nails his Main Stage appearance to perfection with a performance of real maturity and class.

"I've waited ten years tae see this band. Tim is a legend. A pure legend!" A football top-wearing ned standing next to me three rows from the front is possibly more excited about the prospect of watching JAMES than I am. And that's very excited indeed. When Ring The Bells bursts out of the giant speakers I expect some sort of unrestrainable one-man pandemonium from my new best friend; instead, I turn around and notice that his eyes have welled up and he's just standing there, utterly affected by the experience. It's possibly the most moving thing I've ever seen at T in the Park.

The good ship BROKEN RECORDS have 25 minutes to convert another batch of new fans at the BBC Introducing stage. For long-time supporters like The Pop Cop, the airing of a previously unheard song with a working title of Encore - tantalisingly described as "the next single" by frontman Jamie Sutherland - is most rewarding. Driven by a scratchy violin riff, the song is played fast and is as instantly appealing as anything the Edinburgh band have done, i.e. perfect radio material. With a bit of luck (they've got everything else going for them) it might be the one that breaks them into the wider population's consciousness.

It's standing room only in the King Tut's Tent for GLASVEGAS, who are to blame for the embarrassing chants of "Here we fucking go" that populated T in the Park sets throughout the weekend. The 'working-class heroes' with the £100 Ray-Ban sunglasses open with a monumental Geraldine, with reverb and guitar squalls bouncing off the canvas, not to mention several litres of alcohol hurled into the air by their moronic followers. They bring on Angela McCluskey, who looks and sings like someone's gran, to absolutely murder The Proclaimers classic Sunshine On Leith. The Pop Cop leaves in protest, but not before one Glasvegas fan uses the side of the tent as a toilet. Honestly, Scotland would be a better place without this band.

Celtic and Scotland footballer Scott Brown necks the drinks backstage at T in the Park

Thankfully THE KILLERS save the day with a crowd-pleasing 100-minute performance, the pick of the bunch being its bookends - Human and When You Were Young. As a unit The Killers are never anything other than flawless musicians so there's always a risk they might be going through the motions, but tonight Brandon Flowers is in engaging form and it's job done from the Las Vegas boys.

SUNDAY

THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM'S Brian Fallon must be the most content singer of any rock group we've ever seen - he smiles when he talks, he smiles when he sings, he smiles when he's just standing still. Maybe it's because his band - and their stupendous second album The '59 Sound in particular - are finally getting the recognition they deserve. Or maybe it's because today is his fifth wedding anniversary. "She's stuck with me even though we make no money," Fallon tells the audience. "Thanks to you guys for making my wife's mum not think I'm a chump!"

THE SCRIPT are today's James Morrison, although they do at least have a couple of undeniably brilliant, catchy songs in Breakeven and The Man Who Can't Be Moved. Resistance is futile - god knows we've tried.

REGINA SPEKTOR isn't usually this unchatty but maybe she's daunted by the size of the crowd hanging on her every word in the King Tut's Tent. Backed by a violin, cello and drums and, of course, her classical piano playing, she finally seems to have found the perfect musical arrangement to showcase her sublime talents. The reaction to the heartbreaking Samson takes the New Yorker aback, with wild applause lasting long after the final note has ended.

The Main Stage is strangely subdued for BLOC PARTY. They just seem out of their depth. For starters they've never managed to figure out how to play their songs in a way that sounds anywhere near as fulfilling as on record, and if you have to ask the crowd if they are having fun three times - as Kele Okereke did - then you know something's not quite right.

The atmosphere doesn't pick up too much for ELBOW, but at least they can put it down to the mellowness of their songs. To their credit, they introduce the 'reverse Mexican wave' to T in the Park (entire audience puts their hands in the air then ducks down from front to back) and you can't really go wrong with ending your set with On A Day Like This.

WE WERE PROMISED JETPACKS are starting a riot in a packed T Break tent, and if there were any questions over how popular this young band have become in such a short space of time then here was the answer. The crowd sang back every word like a football anthem and the sheer unstoppable energy of their performance brought back memories of Idlewild when they were punkish upstarts.

Why SNOW PATROL were billed as co-headliners is a mystery. It's hard to say who their lacklustre performance bored most - the band or the audience, most of whom seemed willing to tolerate their set as it meant getting decent tactical position for Blur. The lack of fanfare that greeted anything they played from their most recent album A Hundred Million Suns pretty much sums up how far and fast their star has fallen.

You have to feel for MY COUSIN I BID YOU FAREWELL, who are bestowed the dubious honour of headlining T Break at the same time as the final night's main attractions. The tent may be sparsely filled but the triple salvo of Neverland, The Contented Hearts and What We Are Eating Tonight makes it a privilege, not a sacrifice for those who made the effort to watch them.

Every great story needs a dramatic ending and BLUR certainly provided that. The sight of Graham Coxon on his back during Beetlebum, wrestling with his guitar on the floor just hours after he had risen from his hospital bed with food poisoning, summed up just how special their appearance was for all sorts of reasons. After Country House, Damon Albarn asks "do you want another one like that?" before launching into Parklife. When that ends, he repeats the question. The cheers are even louder as the iconic drum beat of Song 2 intensifies into a blitz of chaos. Albarn grins wildly as the crowd catches its breath. "That was the best ever," he says. The best ever, in fact, is saved till last with The Universal, as Blur bid a stirring, magical farewell for possibly the last time. It really did happen.

All photos © The Pop Cop

4 James - Ring The Bells
4 The Killers - Under The Gun
4 Mumford & Sons - The Cave
4 Paolo Nutini - It Must Be Love (Madness cover)